My Kinky Wife Slips Up Again

This is a story about a guy who likes to watch his wife sleep with other men, and written for couples who find that sort of thing erotic. It's a longer story and deals with all the conflicting emotions that come with the fantasy. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading!

The California sun had cleared the hill leading down to Bodega Bay, and I moved my bare feet into a white, warm patch of sand. I brought a cup of instant coffee to my lips, eased back in a folding chair, and took in the sight of my wife rolling over in the chaise lounge across from me, her top undone.

It was only ten-thirty, but after reports of a cloudy afternoon, Kelly intended to soak up the sun while it lasted. As she settled on her back, I mentally fondled her gorgeous C-cups and cute tiny nipples, vividly exposed in the angled light. And then she startled me by sleepily saying, "Hon, keep an eye out for our neighbor."

We'd briefly met the guy camped beside us after we'd unloaded our gear the evening before. For the most part our camping site was enclosed from the beach and the small walking trail leading down to it by a natural line of sagebrush and small trees, but nothing separated our site from his––they were practically conjoined. We'd exchanged a friendly hello, but it turned dark by the time we had our tent up, and by then he'd already ducked inside his for the night.

I suspected he was up and somewhere on the beach as Kelly lay topless, but kept an eye on his tent door just in case. A group of seagulls gathered noisily on the other side of the sagebrush, as my eyes wandered back to Kelly's bare breasts. She'd rubbed on sunscreen, which caused her nipples to sparkle with pin pricks of sunlight. That's when I looked up to discover our neighbor had returned from the beach.

"Uh, Kelly, we have company."

She quickly draped her bikini top over her chest, sandwiching it between her tits and forearms.

The guy set down a bucket with fins and a spear gun inside, the kind of simple spear propelled by a rubber tube sling. "No worries, forget I'm here."

He wore the bottom half of a wetsuit with the top flipped down behind him. He had a broad, muscular, hairy chest and equally strong legs and arms––a swimmer's physique.

"I'm so embarrassed. That was totally rude of me."

He shook the water from his black hair and pulled it back into long spiral locks. He then presented us with a white full smile. Hey, it's your vacation. Go ahead, forget I'm here."

I pointed at the bucket. "You spear anything?"

"Not this morning, but it was the same yesterday––dead in the morning and then pegged a huge Bonita late in the afternoon."

Kelly sat up, still covering her tits with her arms. "You caught it with a spear?"

"Yep! Nailed it right through the back!"

"How big?"

He held out his hands, indicating a length of roughly two feet.

"And you were swimming in the water with it?"

Most girl's as beautiful as my wife have developed a little ice in their gaze to ward off predictors, but not Kelly. Her eyebrows have a gentle arc, granting a kind sympathetic expression, like she's hanging on your every word, and her eyes are so wide, blue, and inviting, they embolden every guy she meets. And when she's truly fascinated, and she was, her eyes grow so big she appears flat out gullible.

"That's nothing, I could've speared a six-foot nurse shark moving along the sea floor, but I wasn't that hungry."

"You did not see a shark!"

He laughed.

"Please tell her you're kidding or I'll never get her to snorkel."

"Alright, alright, I didn't cross any sharks, but last year I saw a Moray Eel as long as my arm, and those suckers are nasty."

He slid his wetsuit down his legs, revealing his red Speedos and a bulge that looked like he might've trapped an eel in his shorts. Kelly's eyes momentarily went from gullible to spell bound before looking away so fast her ponytail swung around her face. At this point he introduced himself as Jerry, and I shook his hand. My wife did the same, freeing one arm from her chest to grab his.

"We planned to do a little snorkeling ourselves, except our friend's got our gear and he's been held up a day."

"Bummer." His eyes formed a kind sheen as he turned towards Kelly. "I got a pair of fins hanging around that used to be my ex-girlfriend's." He grabbed the spear out of his bucket and pointed towards his domed tent. "You're more than welcome to them. They're just sitting in a bag. I keep forgetting to unpack them."

Surprisingly she declined. Normally Kelly bends over backwards to make new friends, so I immediately suspected something was up with her. I coyly looked him over as she might. His body was extremely well defined and his tan was so deep he seemed a natural part of the beach habitat. But at the same time he came off worldly and wise. And there was no missing that bulge, which made even me feel a bit awkward.

"Well, the fins are here if you change your mind."

"So what happened to the girlfriend, if you don't mind me asking?"

His face twisted up some, and he jerked it forwards, so his hair fell in front of his eyes like a crazy man. "Don't worry,

I didn't spear her.

"

"Ha! Fair enough, I'm being rude."

"Naw." He combed his hair behind his ears again. "She was a bit too young." He softly nodded his head, reassuring himself she was indeed too young. "And a bit too unbalanced. Really I'm amazed we lasted a full year. She was twenty-one––just a kid."

He had to be ten years older than my wife, at least forty, so Kelly snorted a laugh when she heard the age difference.

"Hey, do you know any thirty-nine-year-old women willing to drive up and down the coast and live out of a tent for weeks at a time? And just so you know, an experienced man in his prime and an adventurous young girl..." His white teeth lined up in devilish formation. "Some aspects of our relationship made putting up with Arcade Fire and Geisha faced Jack White a whole lot easier."

"Awwww, I love Jack White."

"He's alright. But maybe for my fortieth I'll treat myself to a forty-year-old who likes Sublime."

"A forty-year-old! Don't get ahead of yourself, Jerry, maybe start with a thirty-year-old who can afford her own fins."

I don't think her sarcastic kidding was meant to highlight her age, but the coincidence wasn't lost on Jerry, who pointed his spear in her direction and winked. Kelly reddened when she caught on, and then curled her finger at me to come over to her side. She flipped back the strings on her bikini, indicating she'd like me to tie them, which I did. As the fabric straightened out over her breasts, her nipples made a slightly more prominent stance against the stretchy material than usual. Kelly loves attention, she's a huge flirt, and I was definitely witnessing straight up hot-guy on hot-girl chemistry in action.

Just as I was starting to feel like a third wheel, Kelly announced, "Ali, we should take a little walk. If we don't I'll end up lying here all day." I helped her up, and she said to Jerry, "Nice meeting you."

He laid his wetsuit out over a huge smooth log next to the fire pit. "Yeah, you too."

"See you in a few, neighbor," I said, waving as we left and feeling my wife's grip tighten on my other hand. I had no idea what was wrong, but she was submerging something in a quiet pool of tension.

***

Kelly and I mostly hiked the rest of the day, first along the ocean stained shoreline and then over rocks that resembled pitted asteroids and housed tiny tide pools. After that we took a short drive into Sebastopol to explore the streets in search of a restaurant. The town was quaint, lots of slated wood beach houses and colonial style shops selling folk art and souvenirs. It felt like cheating being inside a shop looking for a pair of sunglasses when our plans were to rough it in a tent, but I'd received a text from Fenton saying he'd be a day late, and that meant our food would be a day late, as well.

Fenton was my boss's brother-in-law and invited me camping when my boss backed out of the plans due to an allergy flare up, or so he said. When my boss told me I should go in his place, I used Kelly as an excuse to get out of it, but Fenton insisted I bring her along. I'd only met Fenton that month and the whole arrangement felt a little sudden, but Kelly seemed excited to go when I called her, and so that was that, we'd driven to the campgrounds that Friday, yesterday.

Our search for food in Fenton's absence led us to a small Italian restaurant with a green awning, twinkling lights and plastic grapevines framing the windows, and a tiled checkered floor inside. We ended up having about three glasses of wine each, which embolden me to ask the burning question.

"So why have we dodged Jerry all day."

"I didn't realize we had?"

"We haven't spent more than forty-five minutes at camp."

"It's boring at camp."

"No, you've been extremely nervous whenever we're there. And when he showed up again you practically dragged me into town."

She gave her wine glass a flick, making the red liquid ripple inwards. "If you must know, he kinda gives me the creeps, OK?"

"Not the creeps––I've seen you creeped out by someone, and there's nothing creepy about Jerry."

"Well he didn't look at you like your clothes were transparent."

I laughed, thinking back on the morning. "What clothes?"

"Very funny, mister, but seriously, he's too intense."

"

He's

intense? Weren't

you

the one who cut to the chase about his ex-girlfriend this morning?"

She flicked her wine glass again before gifting me her full attention. "What are you doing, Ali?"

"I just find it odd, that's all."

"No, you're trying to nudge me into feelings I don't want to have."

"What are you talking about?"

"Aaron, Seth, Scottie!"

The three glasses of wine had an affect on her speaking volume, and so I shut up before everyone in the restaurant became privy to our kinkiest drama. But her point was clear, and to be honest, I couldn't deny it. When other men drool over my wife it simply reminds me of what an awesomely fine woman I have on my arm. But there's been a few times when a guy did more than drool, and pursued her to the point her legs were spread while his dick made a deposit deep inside her little married nook, and for my part I'd done nothing to stop it––quite the opposite, in fact.

The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees by the time we'd parked in the lot and walked back towards the beach, and we leaned into a wind that cut straight through her thin sweat shirt. We kept a brisk pace as I massaged her shoulders and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. We reached the dark gravel road to our campsite and hiked up the small hill to see a shimmering path of moonlight leading up to a full moon bathing on the endless pitch-black horizon. The shear magic of it inspired me to tease, "Kind of romantic. Think Jerry missed us?"

"Don't start again! It's cold, can we please just get back to the tent."

"Hey, look at that." From the top of the little hill we could see a campfire burning, and it had to be coming from Jerry's campsite.

"Is that Jerry?"

"Looks like he's trying to warm things up for you."

"Would you stop already!" She tried to sound mad, but a giggle got in the way.

When we reached our tent we discovered the sage brush sheltered the area from the wind. Jerry played his guitar by firelight with a quarter full bottle of Patron beside his sandy feet. It was hard not to feel like we were intruding on his peaceful evening alone, but he insisted we join him. I motioned with my head towards the fire, and Kelly, knowing what kind of mood I was in, narrowed her eyes at me and respectfully accepted. "I'm pretty tired and we don't want to keep Jerry up, so only for a minute."

We took a seat on a smooth log and Jerry immediately offered us a plastic cup with a hit of tequila inside. He told us about nearly spearing a bass, while the fire flared up and Kelly slipped off her sweatshirt, leaving her in a tight fitting tee and a stretchy short skirt. Jerry sat across from us, meaning my wife's knees had to kiss each other in order to keep the color of her underwear secret. One more round of tequila went down, and Kelly's head came to rest on my shoulder.

Jerry set another log on the fire while telling me about his time in the Philippines, and then poured a third shot as I told him about the river rafting trip Kelly and I went on before we married. It bothered me I had to go back so far in our relationship for a good story, and I kissed her forehead, wishing I could give her the life someone as extraordinary as her deserved. She then passively tapped the cup to my shoulder and downed the tequila. As the residual burn left her throat, she stared into the fire and unconsciously squeezed the cup until a white crease formed on either side.

I decided to ask if Jerry missed having his girlfriend along, knowing the conversation that followed would spark some interest in Kelly.

"I like company at times. Other times it's nice to be all by yourself––and that's a hard one to explain to your partner."

"I bet she was pretty," Kelly said, responding to the sadness in his voice that I heard as well.

"Yep! Cute with a fitness-junkie's body. Naturally cute. And I'm just now noticing she had the same sort of eyebrow thing going on as you, which I always liked."

"

What

?" She laughed. "What eyebrow thing?"

"Ha. Well, there's always some kind emotion happening up there. Graceful movement. They probably reveal a lot more than you intend."

I set my hand on her knee, drawing attention to the fact her knees had parted slightly, and she snapped them back together. Her head lifted off my shoulder and her eyebrows tightened as she told him how full of shit he was.

"Well, you're eyebrows are telling me I shouldn't argue with you, so I won't. But, Ali, am I lying?"

"Not at all."

She pinched my knee, the tickle forcing me to remove it from her fingers. "Weren't we having a conversation about Jerry's girlfriend?"

"Really there isn't anything more to say."

"Yeah there is," I interrupted. Something about Jerry, maybe just how easy going he was, made me feel like I could screw with him like a best friend. "You can explain how a cute, twenty-one-year-old fitness-junkie would hook up with an old fart like you."

Kelly's mouth dropped open and Jerry laughed.

"Only if you tell me how you pulled a smoking... Um, a fine... Uh, how you pulled a pretty woman like Kelly."

It was the first awkward moment he'd had, shuffling his language around out of respect for Kelly, and she giggled, "I'll tell you why a cute little twenty-one-year-old ended up with Jerry." Her eyes appeared glossy in the flickering light as she studied his face a moment. "Because he looks a lot like James Franco."

"I knew you were going to say that. And you're probably right, my girlfriend dragged me to all his movies."

Her eyelids settled halfway over her pupils and her lips curled into a smile, and whatever scampered through her head was far from innocent. "I don't blame her. James Franco's one of the only Hollywood hunkies who doesn't come off as an egomaniac. Especially considering his face is all over Glamour's top-ten most sexy lists. I mean, he's so down to earth, doesn't it seem like you could just hangout out with the guy?"

I rubbed her back consolingly. "You're telling me that when you dream of James Franco you're just hanging out together? You sure you're not dreaming about an Oscar worthy performance in his dressing trailer?"

"

Oh my god

. That's totally one of your dreams, not mine."

My blood froze. Kelly must have been drunker than I realized to allude to our kinky play. She recognized her boo-boo almost immediately, and curled her lips against her teeth and bit them shut.

Fortunately Jerry's mind was elsewhere. "Yeah, Franco would go for you, I could see that."

Suddenly eyes were on him. Whether he meant it or not, there was an implication

he'd

go for Kelly. He finally poked at a log, which released a ribbon of embers along with a faint squeal, as Kelly continued to stare, dumbfounded. "

What

? You know you're pretty."

My wife shook her head in disbelief, forcing him to continue.

"OK, I didn't mean any disrespect. I've never been good at complimenting women, and that's all I was trying to do. You're pretty.

Really

pretty."

She covered up her eyes and leaned back against me. "Now you're just fucking with me."

I decided to come to his rescue. "Kelly's better at giving compliments than receiving. And don't let her big innocent peepers fool you––she knows she's smoking hot."

Jerry's poise returned with a smug laugh and she punched me in the arm.

"This is so not fair. I'm not like that at all. You just have a one track mind."

"Don't we all." Jerry said, now coming to my rescue.

She let us sweat a moment before giving Jerry a wicked smile and sinking down off the log, seating herself closer to the fire. Goddamn she could behave sexily. Jerry and I followed her lead––the flames had thinned out and it felt good nearer to the heat. On the ground Kelly had to wrap her arms over her knees and keep her feet together to conceal her panties. Even still, I caught Jerry's eyes wandering there for a split second.

As the fire burned down into slithering bursts of light, she tapped the back of my calf and I took it to mean I needed to get up. I stood as she reached out a hand, and then I helped her up beside me.

"It's getting late. We should make a trip to the restrooms while I still have the walk in me."

After gathering our toothbrushes and flashlight, and thanking Jerry for the fire, I escorted her along the dark path to the bathrooms.

At the peak of the hill, with the black Pacific Ocean sparkling along the western border, Kelly stopped me and hugged her warm body against mine. We silently embraced for a few minutes, and I knew she was building up the courage to tell me something. I had a pretty good idea what, too, since her cheeks burned and her revealing eyebrows took on an alluring slant––a clear indicator she was drunk, horny and seriously ready to fuck.

I kissed her forehead and asked what was on her mind. She looked up at me, the moonlight electrifying her blue eyes. Her hand traveled from my back around to my crotch, but as I went to kiss her, she sprinted away from me.

She didn't make it five feet before I caught up and lifted her giggling body off the ground. My arms were around her butt and her legs around mine, which placed her breasts just under my face. I leaned her back and rolled my lips across a tee shirt covered nipple.

"OK," she finally said, "here it goes––if you really, really want something to happen between Jerry and me, then maybe I can work it out."

I froze a minute, and gently set her down. Obviously she was attracted to Jerry, but I hadn't expected it go further than kinky talk between her and me. It's not that I was mad, just surprised. For the past eighteen months she'd referred to her previous affairs as drunken mistakes.

Kelly is attracted to strong, handsome, confident men. If my gorgeous wife is talking to a guy, then without question he is the best looking, funniest, and most charming guy in the room. Unfortunately he often tends to be the biggest asshole, too, like Seth. Seth wasn't a bad guy, per se, just an extreme opportunist out for some balls to the wall fucking and armed with enough charm to make it happen. I know because I spied on them, and saw a lot more that night than she later confessed to during our naughty bedroom talks. I can only assume she wasn't exactly proud of losing control of herself with the arrogant prick. And then came a phone call two weeks later, where a very drunk Seth wanted to come by the house for another go. She told him it wasn't going to happen and wouldn't ever happen, but it still left her feeling cheap, and cheap is not at all how she views herself. After that she'd made it clear there'd be no other men between her married legs, and so I needed a moment to grapple with my pride over her sudden change of heart with Jerry.